Unenchanted
by Emeraldbuttercup
Summary: The curse has been broken. The Draconis that had guarded the Lestrange's vault at Gringotts is back in its true form, surprising both the Boy-Who-Lived and a certain dragon-loving Weasley. Set after Lord Voldemort's defeat.
1. Unenchanted

My eyes were thrown open suddenly, wide and unseeing.

There was a tense moment, and then I sucked in the sharp air into my deprived lungs.

I lay there, spread-eagle on the dirt as I recovered shakily. The fresh breeze tickled my face, the scent of the salty waves drifting upon it. Beneath me the dirt was soft and moist, the mulch of dead leaves fertilizing it. The whisper of rustling leaves in the wind was music to my ears and soothed my soul.

Freedom.

Long had it been since I had smelled anything but the stale air of the underground tunnels and goblin-stench. Long had it been since my wings had soared through the air, or my fire burned through the night. Shackles no longer bound my limbs keeping me prisoner. No, I was free, free of the hopelessness, cruelty, and pain. I lay still for a long time, marveling at my situation.

And then the revelation hit me like a physical blow.

This was not my body.

For one thing, my flesh was soft. Gone were my silver scales that were tougher than steel. A new vulnerable skin had replaced it. I felt exposed, powerless. In a duel my opponent's teeth and claws would surely rip this puny body apart, tearing the flesh off my bones with one swipe.

My tail was missing, which frightened me greatly. Without my tail to keep me balanced, how was I to fly? With a horrible jolt, I realized I could no longer feel my leathery wings folded on my back. I desperately tried stretching my wings out, to soar through the air once more, yet nothing happened. Burning anger and panic filled me as I realized I was grounded in this weak form, unable to fly away in search of my brethren. Never in all my days had I felt so helpless- I was no better than a hatchling. My nostrils flared as I smelled the fear-stench wafting off me.

I was in danger out in the open, yet I doubted if I could even get to safety in this new uncomfortable body. For the first time since waking, I willed myself to move. My new limbs obeyed my commands, thank goodness. I curled into a small ball instinctively as to hide my unprotected underbelly in case of attack. All of my joints seemed to bend in the wrong places. My limbs were too thin and gangly for my liking. My neck was no longer elegant and long, but impossibly thin and short. Some kind of odd hair was growing from my head, falling over my shoulders in a curtain of lank locks. My talons were gone, replaced by jointed appendages. As I wiggled these appendages curiously, I was struck by a horrible thought: Had I turned into an egg-breaking hoard-stealing goblin? But no, I was too long and lanky to be one of those goblins-demons had stolen my eyesight with their sharp weapons and burning irons. I resembled more those funny creatures that had magic flowing through their veins. Wizards. For some reason lost on me, I had forsaken my familiar body for this one.

Speaking of this body- something was wrapped around it. It was a sort of fabric draped upon me, but no matter how much I twisted and turned it did not fall off. I would have been frightened if it did not have my scent, yet the scent on this fabric was very old.

I put this information aside as I heard a wolf howl in the distance. If I were in my true form, the wolf would have meant food; now I was afraid that it was the other way around, and I was to be the food. Trembling, I blindly stretched my legs out, and tried to get them to carry me away. My only reward was to get to stand on all four legs before my forelegs buckled and I hit the ground hard. I hissed angrily, cursing this new flesh. My anatomy was all wrong: my hindlegs were taller than my forelegs, which had strange joints that bent when I did not expect them to.

The wolf howled again, this time much closer. Panic clouded my mind as I realized how truly pitiful I was, immobile and blinded. But I had not spent all those hard years captive just to die when I was freed. Shakily I tested my frail legs again, and crawled through the underbrush. My tongue flickered out of my mouth, tasting the wind. I was in the middle of a vast forest, leagues from the sea. However, there was a rocky outcropping farther to my right. Though I could not smell the damp and darkness of a cave that could provide shelter, the sulfurous smell of brimstone warmed me with thoughts of my native home. Instinctively, I knew brimstone meant safety. Trying to master my quaking body, I started crawling in that direction.

* * *

It had been many moonrises ago since I had awakened in my new form, and my condition had only worsened. I had made it to the rock outcropping, the smell of brimstone warming my heart and soothing my fevered mind. However, I still did not understand how to use this body, and it was slowing killing me. I could not hunt; birds were too high and could sense my approach. Foxes and quail were faster than I, who could still only manage a few unbalanced steps before falling, my mouth tasting dirt. And my teeth- even were I to sneak up on my game, I doubted these teeth could take their life. These were smooth and thick, not like the deadly fangs I was used to. They were better for chewing up plants than hunting, but the foliage did not sate my appetite. I craved fresh, bloodied meat, yet I could capture none. Maybe if I still possessed sight I would not be so feeble, yet my eyes had been cast into the eternal shadow with no hope of returning. The only thing that kept me alive those few days were the puddles of rainwater that had pooled between the brimstone.

But now- I was dying. I could feel it in my bones, my cramping body. The lack of food made is so I did not have the energy to move more than a few feet. My frail form was giving up on me, the dull pain of an empty stomach becoming worse. But though my body was on the edge of utter defeat, my weary mind refused to give up. I had to prevail. Curling up in a small ball, my back against the brimstone to shelter me from the unforgiving wind, an uneasy unconsciousness found me.

* * *

**If you want me to continue, review! Where do you think the plot should go? What do you think of the main character so far? Any suggestions? Tell me what you think!**


	2. Enchanted

Charlie Weasley's nerves tingled with excitement and uncertainty. He really ought not be doing this, what would his friends in Romania think- adrenaline coursed through him, his wand already held at the ready, just in case.

If there was one thing Charlie knew, it was that one should never, ever hunt dragons alone.

But just scouting them out didn't technically count, right?

Whether what he was doing was right or wrong, Charlie continued anyway. Besides, Harry needed him- Harry had sought him out at the Burrow less than a week after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's defeat.

Charlie should have known then that something was wrong. Out of all of the Weasleys, he was the one who knew Harry the least. So why would Harry seek him out specifically? And then there was that look. The way Harry had approached Charlie, staring at the floor with a guilty look on his face, made Charlie slightly leery, knowing the subject of the conversation would not be a pleasant one. Still, he had heard Harry out all the same.

A Dragon. There was a fully-grown, fire-breathing _dragon_ just mere leagues away from the Scottish countryside.

Charlie had watched Harry, his mouth gaping open. Harry explained how he didn't want the already disheveled Ministry and the overworked Shacklebolt worrying about a dragon, and wondered if Charlie could take care of the problem.

And now, here he was, sneaking through the undergrowth, a dragon close by. Charlie knew deep down that he should have asked for backup from his friends of Romania. No doubt they would have been more than willing to help. Together they could have subdued the dragon and released it to live its life far from wizards or muggles. And yet, Charlie had always done everything with his team. He wanted to do something himself this once, if only to prove to himself that he was worthy. Mostly in Romania he had only studied and observed.

Now he wanted to do it himself.

The setting sun was a deep amber colour as it shone through the canopy of trees. Charlie stopped, crouching low to the ground in search of clues. Of course, he could always cast a spell to show him the way to the dragon, but what would be the challenge in that? Charlie's sharp eye moved about the forest, but the landscape seemed deprived of any claw marks, melted stone, or charred bones. Charlie frowned, but did not give up so easily. Cautiously, he sniffed the air. The smell of cedar was the most powerful, but there was also a sulfurous undertone in the distance. Charlie perked up immediately, knowing he had a lead. Dragons of all kinds were attracted to brimstone, as the sulfur was easily flammable under a dragon's fiery breath and could be used to keep them warm for hours. Charlie gripped his wand tightly, and his heart thumping eagerly. Slowly, Charlie followed the weak scent of the brimstone, careful not to make any noise, lest the dragon be alerted to his presence.

There, up ahead.

A rocky outcropping of brimstone stood, the jagged rocks stretching towards the sky. Charlie stopped, his eyes trying to pick up the glint of a scale, a swish of a serpentine tail.

Nothing.

Charlie did not let this discourage him, however. With a sense of adventure and recklessness, he cautiously approached the brimstone. Perhaps the dragon had gone hunting? Charlie placed one hand on the stone, bringing his wand in front of him defensively. Still, only more brimstone met his gaze. Picking his way through the brimstone, Charlie sighed in frustration. Maybe the dragon had left. With wings that powerful it could be hundreds of leagues away and he would be none the wiser- Charlie froze. There, underneath the overhanging ledge of brimstone, shadowed almost from view…

There was a girl.

Charlie blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no, curled in a small ball with her back facing him was a feminine form. Her long silvery blonde hair splayed out on the ground like a halo. She wore a simply cut dress of a thick gray material that elegantly draped down to her ankles in a wide skirt. Charlie knelt on the ground, trying to get a better view of the mysterious girl. Her sides were falling shallow and unevenly. Was she hurt? Charlie crawled closer, his eyes entranced on her. He was just outside of the brimstone ledge, less than a meter away. Slowly, Charlie raised his hand to gently awake her. Before he could touch her however, the girl stirred and lifted her face. Charlie gasped, horror and pity on the forefront of his mind. Her face was horribly scarred around the eyes, white angry lines standing out where her skin had been slashed. Her eyes were a milky opaque colour, showing that she was also blind. Anger and hate boiled inside Charlie to whoever inflicted these wounds.

"Hello." Charlie breathed lightly, trying to seem as kind as possible. This poor girl had been through so much pain, he felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it. What kind of monster would torture an innocent like that? Charlie leaned forward, studying the webs of scars marring the girl's face. If he did not focus directly at the scars however, he saw that this girl's pale pointed face was almost angelic. He reached out as if to touch the girl's face.

The girl shrank back, uttering a soft warning growl. Charlie blinked, stunned. He had heard that kind of growl before, though never from a human. Dragons growled like that when they were warding off attack. Charlie let his hand sink back to his side, and the girl relaxed slightly. Charlie could tell by her body language that she was badly frightened, though she tried to hide it with the prideful arch of her neck.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Charlie said softly, reassuring. "It's okay. What's your name?" The girl's face turned to where his voice was coming from, but offered no reply. She was trembling from head to foot, her blind eyes piercing him. She obviously needed help. Charlie raised his hand again, but the girl growled, this time her lip curling back to reveal her teeth. Charlie frowned. Although the girl did certainly not intimidate him, he did not want to upset her further. Charlie ran a hand through his ginger hair, thinking furiously.

None of this made any sense. He had come to an abandoned isle to find a dragon and instead found a girl, injured and abandoned among the broken towers of brimstone. And most curious of all, this girl's behavior was definitely draconic.

The girl shuddered again, casting Charlie out of his thoughts. She looked on the edge of collapse. Charlie felt helpless; what was he supposed to do?

"You can't understand me, can you?" He asked quietly. All that met him was the girl's silence. Her silvery hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall, veiling half of her face from view. Charlie watched her, memorized. Closely, she lifted her face, her thin fingers scratching at the stone beneath her. Instinctively Charlie recognized this as a sign of agitation and fear. Charlie did the first thing that came to mind to ease her suffering. Impulsively, he leaned forward towards the girl. She shrank back, but Charlie still advanced. Then, with a brief forethought of hesitation, he lowered his head to her, exposing his bare neck to her inspection. To a dragon, this would seem like gesture of friendship, showing that he trusted his life to her. Charlie stared at the ground, his fiery ginger hair falling into his face. He held his breath, waiting for the girl's reaction.

Then, Charlie felt it.

A warm cheek was pressing against the base of his neck.

Charlie looked up at the girl, stunned. Her eyes were closed and her face was resting against his shoulder. One tiny hand was against his chest, grasping his rumpled shirt. She was drinking in his scent, her face calm for the first time. Charlie sat transfixed to the spot, his mouth gaping slightly. This was bizarre, almost unreal, and yet...

Charlie closed his eyes, allowing his own cluttered thoughts to dissolve. His chin nestled on top of the girl's head, and it fit like a missing puzzle piece. Charlie inhaled slowly, deeply. She smelled of roaring fire, powerful and wild, crackling with energy and light. She smelt also of the laughing, untamed wind high above, where eagles soared free of burdens or worries. There was the scent of a babbling brook, pure water chasing merrily after the horizon. She smelled of the rich soil, promising distant lands exotic and unexplored- This was the smell of ancient, powerful magic. It was the scent of adventure and daring and _life_.

Charlie was drunk on the scent this girl emanated.

For one beautiful moment, the world seemed flawless. One clear, pristine moment hung in the air, like the dying note of a phoenix song.

And then it disappeared. The girl moved, and Charlie's eyelids flew open. He felt dazed and confused, unsure if everything he had just felt was an illusion. Yet it had felt so strong, like fire coursing through his veins. His heart was pounding wildly against his rib cage. The girl drew away, her silvery hair glowing in the setting sun. Charlie blinked furiously, trying to regain a hold on reality. The girl was no longer cowering away from him. She was peaceful, though she still trembled with exhaustion. How long had she been alone out here on this isle? A wave of fierce protectiveness came over Charlie, not uncommon among the Weasley clan. Rising quickly, Charlie stared down at the girl whose scent had bedazzled him so. There was something different about her, something as powerful and untamed as the fire that burned inside her. But for now she was ill and in a desperate condition, so Charlie laid his thoughts aside. Bending down, he moved to grab her hand. The girl's face froze in surprise when his hand wrapped around hers. Charlie squeezed her hand reassuringly. The girl's face relaxed somewhat, though a flicker of uncertainty was still there.

A second later and they had both disappeared, the whispering breeze curling about the broken towers of brimstone.


End file.
